A /N: This is the attempt to reply to the request of some of you asking if I could translate some parts of my epic. So here's the first chapter of "Nostalgie Trip". Please let me know what you think so I know if it's worth the effort to continue.

A big Thank you to the wonderful Summer Laura who so kindly beta-ed it.

I know you're more than busy right now, so it's just the more appreciated! xxx

Chase and House live together, but their relationship is fraught with uncertainty and doubts. Especially Chase can't believe that he has made some kind of a home with House.

He remembered. And was ashamed to have forgotten about him. Little Robert Chase, with whom he'd roamed around Paris for two days. The Tuileries, ice-cream and movies. That night at the B&B near Place Vendome, where he'd been shocked to discover that the boy was a victim of domestic violence. Where the little one had slept comfortably in the double bed until he had woken him up to satisfy his wish of climbing the Eiffel Tower - an unsuccessful endeavour due to a traumatic experience from Robert's childhood.

Still, it had been lovely. Just to be with him, knowing that by spending his time with him he made up for the things the boy had a need of.

Material things, by contrast, had had little to no value at all; the boy was probably being showered with those at home. Just not with things that really mattered.

Naturally he'd replaced the boy's blood-stained trousers after his fall and when that little mannequin had enchanted him so much he'd gone into a proper shopping frenzy. However, for emotionally neglected Chase it had been House who'd been the high point of the weekend, not the new clothes - so much so that he'd thought him to be a wizard, even though at the age of eleven one wasn't really supposed to believe in such things any more.

He'd taken him back to the B&B after visiting a night club. His father hadn't called once, he'd apparently not been missing his son at all. House had vowed to confront Rowan Chase after little Robert had tearfully confessed to the cause of the bruises on his soft skin. So as a precaution he'd let the boy sleep in the next morning instead of taking him along to the Ritz where the rheumatologist had taken up quarters.

He hadn't actually met him there, though. It had been a two-day conference and as uncaring as Dr Chase was towards his adventurous offspring, as diligent was he about his work.

After the doorman had told him that one of his colleagues had taken to playing nanny for the boy, he'd just gone back to his usual routine without even making sure that his only child was in good hands. Apparently, House had even back then been known to be trustworthy, to both patients and colleagues. And even though he hadn't been aware of it at the time he had been secretly glad to be able to spend his weekend with the little boy instead of sitting inside a stuffy hotel conference hall.

The conference was going ahead without him and he wasn't even sorry about it because there was that little boy clinging to his arm, marvelling at just about everything. Needing him.

For the first time in his life he'd felt like he knew what it could be like to be with someone who enjoyed this bond in an entirely selfless manner.

Their relationship had been one of mutual reciprocality, just the way it was now. There was no other way with Chase. He would never think of exploiting him, it just wasn't in his nature. He liked to give and he took without being greedy. As a child the latter had come easier to him.

They'd done a boat cruise on the Seine, gone for ice-cream and café au lait, taken a stroll through Montmartre, where every painter had hollered and whistled after the pretty blonde, sun-tanned boy, wanting to do a study of him - in the end Robert had timidly pushed up against him and quickly crossed the square.

He had made him eat crêpes and other regional delicacies because he'd been much too thin for his age. And because he enjoyed eating himself. With a naturalness only to be found in children the little one had eaten it all up, walking next to him, sometimes close to him, in blissful grace.

He hadn't even shied away from a bowl of scallop-soup, though he'd preferred crêpes with cinnamon and sugar above all else, washed down with a mug of apple juice, which he'd kept drinking like a champion - and later suffered the consequences when he'd gotten diarrhea.

And yet, House fondly remembered all of this.

His own high spirits had been crowned with the laughter of a child who didn't have much to be happy about in his everyday life. Everything they had done together had felt magical. Robert's small hand that had pushed itself tentatively, yet trusting into his own - because he'd felt secure this way.

He'd felt so touched that he'd had to swallow hard and if he could he'd never let the little one's hand go.

The stairs up to Sacre Coeur had seemed never-ending, but Robert had taken them with the agility of a rubber ball, just to ask him, once inside, whether he minded if he said a short prayer for his estranged parents.

He hadn't minded at all and had watched in awe the little boy dipping his fingers into the stoup and crossing himself, just to share his misery in silent conversation afterwards, without so much as a tear or a facial expression that could have given his feelings away.

It had been silly, really, but he'd hardly been able to choke back his tears.

When the boy had returned to his side he'd given him a quick, spontaneous hug and whispered a blissful Thank you. It was at this point that even the most cold-hearted thug would have been bound to give up his demand for a ransom - even though he hadn't known at the time that the little one was from a respected and wealthy family. He'd merely suspected it judging by the boy's good manners.

The lump in his throat had prevented him from responding and he'd left the church with the boy, pointlessly wishing that his prayer would come true in every respect.

That evening, when too many tears had streamed across the little face, he'd failed to get a hold of Dr Chase and he'd suspected that a guilty conscience had made him deliberately avoid him. He'd found that he couldn't even judge him for that, thinking that he would have done the same thing. Though, of course, he wouldn't have dreamed of abandoning his son in this manner.

Robert had hardly been able to say goodbye to him and had skillfully put his puppy-eyes to good use to put off the return to the hotel and therefore the final farewell. He'd found it impossible to understand how anyone could leave this sweet, uncomplicated and affectionate child to a stranger's care - and in a strange city as well. Over two days Chase had given him the greatest gift, something he'd been lacking even back then - the knowledge that he could still feel something, that he was important to another person.

They had waited in the foyer until midnight, and he'd cradled the dozing boy in his arms and sung to him. Finally, when he'd been sure that the boy was fast asleep, he'd handed him over to the doorman with a heavy heart and left a message for his father.

oOo

The next day the Chases had gone back to Down Under. He'd set his alarm and still he had missed them. He didn't have an address to write to and after a while he'd forgotten that unusual little Aussie. His longstanding substance abuse had made him forget a lot of things, but this shouldn't have happenend. He should have kept in touch. Somehow he should have tracked Chase down and maybe he could have spared him some of the things that had permanently tortured him ever since.

In fact, Chase hadn't been that different back then to the way he was now. Maybe a bit more open, just the usual for a child to be, but not much. The things that had come after - his father walking out on them, his mother turning to alcohol and her subsequent death four years later - had informed his personality. To think that House would have decidedly changed this development simply by giving Daddy a piece of his mind was presumptuous, but he just couldn't help feeling this way.

Not that he wanted to change him, but just a tad more confidence couldn't hurt. He wasn't to blame, no matter what had happened, and he could keep telling him as long as he liked - deep down Chase knew already, and yet he just couldn't let it go. Whenever he lost control over something he always blamed himself. As perfect as he was on the outside, this was definitely his biggest flaw.

oOo

After hours, his young employee and now-lover returned to his office. He looked at him affectionately, as if he wanted to keep him in his memory forever. Perhaps this was true, though he would never forget him like he did fifteen years ago; the disharmonious broad bridge of the nose, the beautiful sensual lips, the elongated chin. His velvet skin that had grown a bit paler since back then when he met him as a little boy lost.

Sometimes he seemed to be crying out silently for touch. This, among a thousand other things, was something that attracted House to Chase - the desire to be touched by him, to experience long neglected endearment. The younger man wouldn't have be that ravenous if Daddy Chase had overcome his lack of caring and acted like a father. House didn't feel gratitude towards him, though, nor did he feel gratitude towards his own stepfather, the man whose actions allowed House to discover a bit of himself in Chase. This, obviously, had been the reason to go beyond his beliefs and convictions.

His reactions hadn't been the same, though. House himself had confronted his father with open rebellion. Chase had looked up Rowan until he realised it was pointless; that it wasn't worth the effort. You can't change people, can't make them do something you want them to even if you depend on the mood swings of an alcoholic mother. It doesn't make things easier when you're soft and cute and pining for something the ones close to you are not willing to give, a basic need of every child. Robert had to buy that affection by taking care of his mother instead the other way round. He surely did love her, otherwise he wouldn't have stayed with her to the very end, however House doubted the fact that she herself had been capable of giving love.

In his own family, his mother made up for the emotional distance of his father's, Chase, he never had anything like that; no cuddling, no goodnight kiss, and if so, it had been whisky flavoured; a kiss Mommy couldn't remember five seconds later when she was chasing him through the house in order to find her stash in secretly hidden places.

He would have to take Chase to his mother's some time soon. She had done him good. Mom, with her almost frantic caring manner, had prevented him from the emotional coldness of John House. At least that's what one should be thinking, but his superior behaviour had overtaken her big heart. There had been no feelings inside him apart from the desire not to end up like his father. He didn't succeed. Yes, he was different. Better? Not necessarily.

In retrospect, he'd gladly beat Chase senior right into his grave hoping that he'd turn in his coffin with anger because of his son's unconventionality, because of the future that he'd planned out for Robert which he'd abandoned entirely. Nobody should be allowed to act like a coldhearted bastard when it comes to their offspring. Certainly not when one reacts as sensitively as Chase who, after finally seeing the truth had withdrawn from his father entirely.

"Ready to go home?" Chase asked with a twitching smile. He sat down in front of House, picking up the ball on his desk letting roll between the palms of his hands. "Or is there something we need to talk about?"

"Aside from our honeymoon, no."

Chase's brow frowned in amazement as he turned around to gaze at him. House was crossing the room heading for his jacket on the wardrobe racks.

"Our honeymoon?"

"Yes. In Paris. The city of love. I don't know how to refer to it otherwise. It sounds pathetic either way. But the city is supposed to be lovely this time of year. Consider it a reward for a wonderful time."

Snorting in disbelief Chase rose from his chair. Still, he thought of the whole idea as some joke, but House could see in his eyes that he was afraid of him changing his mind or persuading him to do something he didn't approve of. As for the physical aspect of their relationship, he wasn't yet used to it. Maybe he never would be until they went their separate ways again. However, House wasn't going to let it end, even if mentioning Paris implied debauchery or a soon-to-be break up.

"What are we gonna do there? I don't think Cuddy will give us the time off."

"I got on my hands and knees and offered myself to her so she had no choice. I made a mistake long ago. I want to make up for it with our little trip."

Finally, he burst out with laughter. It didn't sound like relief, more like suspicion. House knew why. His suggestion must have sounded like a swan song in the younger man's ears. The culmination of a fertile bond that had taken a turn for a misanthropic cripple and which he wasn't able to control any more.

"I don't know what you mean. You never make mistakes."

House didn't bother to clarify and it wasn't in Chase's nature to inquire further. On the one hand he appreciated this quality. On the other, it could be almost appalling. Just like Rowan's indifference - different, of course, but none the less irritating. But, his alleged indifference had its reasons. He was scared of annoying him. Of losing him.

Talk to me. That's what I'm here for.

On the back of the motorcycle, he snuggled up close to him and got a tighter grip as usual. It was his way of communicating. It told him more than words would have done. Still, he would have liked to hear them.

oOo

Having reached home, Chase walked straight into the kitchen. One of his countless positive characteristics was the pleasure that he took in preparing meals. He's gotten more and more experimental since the influence of Wilson's Ashkenazi cooking and was trying out recipes House was the beneficary of. Every one was as delicious as the other.

Since they were heading towards the weekend he reared a special dish. The aroma of onions, barley and beans united to an irresistible temptation, just as irresistible as the cook himself.

As soon as he stood in front of the oven, he forgot everything around him. Whatever he did, he did with great drive and pride. With a stomach ache that wasn't caused by hunger, House realised that Chase's loyalty and devotion had been honoured much too late. Honoured much too late by him, the cranky boss whose sarcasm had been wasted on the boy. If he could wish for anything to be unsaid, it would have been the mocking at the expense of Chase's.

Unlike Foreman or Cameron he never defied him. He had been marked as a swot and this provoked House even more. It was in his nature to play the misunderstood outsider.

House sneaked up on him from behind in order to look inside the cooking pot and earned a hoarse, clearly aroused noise coming from Chase's throat as he leaned against him, pressing the back of his head on his shoulder. He enjoyed being wooed while cooking. It was almost like a little ritual that never grew old.

"If it was up to me, I'd never let you go," he whispered, his lips brushing that silky hair, soft as a child's, taking strands between his teeth as he did so. "Just because of your culinary experimentation. It wouldn't just be the food I missed if you were gone."

"You don't have to miss anything. I'm here."

"I don't know," he muttered, going instinctively for his mouth. He couldn't help but conceal a bit of sadness in his voice. "Sometimes I think I've been dreaming. Or we both have. You won't stay forever. I wouldn't want you to. Otherwise I'd be ruining your future. Like your father did."

"I've met you because of him," Chase reminded him. "Maybe in another way than he imagined, but it doesn't matter any more. I am happy with you. That's not so wrong, is it?"

Overwhelmed with joy House nibbled on the soft skin of his lips, wandering upwards to his nose and forehead, pulling him into his arms. In those arms, Chase found some relaxation. He sighed and lowered his eyelids. Statements like this embarrassed him. They shouldn't. House loved his Aussie and he was allowed to tell him everything. Even things that were pathetic when spoken aloud.

The pervasive smell of burning food made Chase spin around before he switched off the plate and turned the food in haste. Standing in each other's arms whilst food burned behind them was almost a ritual in itself.

Strangly, Chase didn't find it funny today. Sobbing hard he tried to save the rest of the beef, wiping his hand desperately over his face.

"I'm a huge fan of burned beef, " House assured him, but it didn't come as solace to Chase.

Supper and the packing of suitcases were done in silence. House didn't worry too much about it since they were both men of few words at times, but he sensed some melancholy about adult Chase that wasn't unlike the sadness of kid Chase back then. Somehow he had to get through to him, to stir up his hidden anticipation about their trip.

"You still got your stuffed toy? The hideous one-eyed monster? Teddy, wasn't it?"

"Tony", he corrected, smiling for the first time that evening. Carefully he folded a shirt to put in the suitcase. The thoughtfulness with which he folded and packed was something akin to meditation. "No. Aside from that, you have a much better memory than I have. Maybe I have told you about him, but I never said he had one eye. That's not true."

"Pity. I hoped you could take him with you."

"Why Paris, House?"

He sat beside the suitcase, stuffed full, as if he was getting ready to travel around the world. The smell of starched cotton flattered House's nostrils and he navigated the younger man on his lap. His mouth grazed over the fluff on his neck that still felt as tender as sixteen years ago. Closing his eyes, he could vividly remember the boy standing in front of him wearing nothing but his hipsters and a shirt. His beguiling pout when he had told him he required an extensive examination as it was feared that he was hurt.

"Because that's where I first met you. I want to get to know you better now. And I wish you were eleven again. Could you pretend? For me?"

In sheer confusion Chase turned his head and weezed helplessly. But he kept silent. House began stroking his hair with his hand wandering down the spine to rest on his stomach. His legs intertwined backwards around House's as he leaned on him. It was a strange, yet arousing feeling to have him sit upon his lap without giving in to the desire of taking him to show him what he meant to him.

oOo

A note was lying on the pillow next to him. Chase's bed was a mess and empty. Sleepy, House reached for the piece of paper torn from the appointment book he misused as some kind of diary. In capitals, he wrote him a message. House rolled on his back, holding the note far away so he was able to read it without searching for his glasses.

What he had to read turned his blood into ice. It seemed like a goodbye letter. It scared him.

I don't know how to put it in proper words. I don't want to go to Paris. We had some good times. I want to remember them. The fact that you mean so much to me often makes me feel insecure. I obviously mean something to you, too, and that's where things get complicated. Neither of us are used to caring about anyone but ourselves.

As if you didn't show me that even I am capable of caring, House thought.

Our bond was something special but it was clear to both of us that it wasn't to be forever. Sometimes I believe it would have been better not to get to know you the way I do now. You are my boss. I couldn't stop myself from wanting more but I'm torturing you so it is best I leave. Yesterday you said you've made a mistake. You never did. Maybe it was me. Please forgive me.

Startled, he got out of bed, much quicker than his bum leg allowed him to. He stumbled down the hallway and opened the front door. If he was lucky he could reach the boy in time; the sheets of his bed had still been covered with the warmth of his skin.

He should have noticed by the stuffed suitcase that had disappeared with Chase, by his restlessness and the shy affection with which he had said his goodbyes, begging him silently not to be mad about his final decision. Chase wasn't used to it like he was. Something inside of him drove him further, made him move on, leaving behind what once was good for him. Having a relationship was far more difficult for him than it was for House.

In addition to that, he had not taken into account that Chase was a man, a regular guy whose dreams were about the perfect symbioses with a girl. As for House, he considered his life fulfilled with Chase. He didn't think of changing that habit. Some excitement and quarrels now and then didn't do no harm in his opinion. Spiced their relationship up a bit. It never got boring with him, however, he had gone too far this time.

"Chase!"

He yelled. Loud enough to make the neighbours curiously open the window. His car and motorcycle were still parked, hence he presumably Chase was on his way to take the bus. Where to? It could have been to the hospital. Apparently he was about to quit so that they'd never have to see each other again. Crazy, stubborn boy. What if he was up to something that would take him away from him for good? The mere thought got to his stomach.

He called the hospital, but just as he had expected Chase hadn't been there.

He put on his clothes and soared up the motorcycle.

Chase's loft was freezing cold, but he could smell the presence of his lover underneath the dust and the adamantly remaining smoke of cigarettes. A breeze of cotton and Chase. Exhausted from taking the stairs, he entered the room.

Sitting on the bed, Chase glared at him with big eyes. He didn't move. Water was running into the jacuzzi that House gave him as a gift for his birthday last year.

Neither of them spoke as House sat beside him. As his leg began to twitch, Chase slowly stroked it to ease the pain. The real magic was his hands.

"I wanted to take a bath," he started to explain awkwardly.

"Before running off to Qantas. I read your message. What did I do?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I can't go to France with you."

Cautiously, House pulled him closer, his hand in his hair. He was shivering.

"Because I left you there on your own."

"Dad was with me. I don't blame you."

Dad, of course, had been furious about his son's adventurous spirits. A hypocrite. He had been playing the relieved father for House, while shortly afterwards lectured his boy how wrong he been for trusting a stranger. A lecture probably wasn't the only punishment he suffered.

Ridden with guilt, House caressed the younger man's neck. He had had time. He should have had waited to be of some support to the boy in his argument with his father, a father who would not listen to him. Who did not care.

"I shouldn't have left you. I wanted to talk to your father about you but I was too much a coward to wait for him. Maybe everything would be different now if I had. I was wrong about what I said to you back then. Your father was an idiot. The biggest jerk one can imagine. Come with me to Paris. I like travelling with you, and you always have enjoyed it, right? We could revive the spirit of nostalgia. What else do I do with the tickets if you refuse to go? They are already booked. Cameron wouldn't say no, fair enough, but I want to have you with me. It would make no sense without you."

Together, they entered the jacuzzi. He didn't have his answer yet, but he was far away from pushing Chase. A bath would hopefully take the edge off his troubled mind.

"I had nightmares," Chase said out of the blue, playing with House's fingers, putting them to his lips in a light kiss. The gesture was new and it aroused him more than he was willing to admit to himself.

"After you were gone. I would have liked to go with you. I firmly believed your plane would crash or something bad happened to you because I didn't want my father any more and I wanted to be with you instead. I thought I was being punished for having had much more fun in your care than in my father's. My mother laughed at me when I told her about you. I had no proof that you even existed, She didn't even talk to Dad. She said I was dreaming and making it up. Later I made this believe myself, too. But the clothes you had purchased in that shopping mall, I kept them like a treasure. I intended to write to you, to tell you how much I had appreciated being in your care for the weekend, but I only had your first name. I really would have liked to have told you. I wanted you to know I wasn't pissed about your departure. You appeared like a wizard and you vanished like a wizard. You've helped me believe in fairy tales. I have been thinking a lot of you."

Embarrassed about the memory of his childish behaviour then, he snorted.

"I just hope my message in a bottle has never reached you."

"Let's go to Paris," House said. "It could be fun."